


leave the soul alone

by inkyslumber



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Humanstuck, Sadstuck, i guess?? this counts???, i'm not tagging any other characters, just barebone-ing it right now, sorry this is so vague, tags to be added/updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2020-02-29 17:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18782611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkyslumber/pseuds/inkyslumber
Summary: You feel your heart jump into your throat with excessive force when you hear your name. Ohshit. Twisting your hands into your sweater, you turn towards the sound. Your little brother is standing there with his mouth agape, and well, he’s not as little as you remember. How long has it been? Only two years, right? That’s what the calendar had said. At the very least, he looks angry with you - that hasn’t changed.Your name is KANKRI VANTAS, and you probably should have called before coming home.





	1. a foolish, fragile spine

It’s been two years since you’ve been home. You’d left shortly after high school graduation, acceptance letter to Yale University your lifeline. Your parents had begged you to stay - just the summer, they’d said, no need to leave for the campus so soon - and you had spun some long-winded story to weasel out of the commitment. Your sister may have decided to take a gap year, but you could feel the streets of your hometown closing in on you every day that passed after you had graduated. It was too much, and you’d run like a coward.

They’d only insisted out of obligation, after all.

Now, you’re back in town. The Greyhound stop is several blocks from your house, and you steady yourself when it comes to a halt. You’d left most of your belongings behind at your roommate’s place, but that didn’t make hauling a suitcase and a duffel bag through the streets any more appealing. You shoulder your duffel, casting a wary look at the unfamiliar faces that were staying boarded, and bite your tongue when you pass the driver. Old habits die hard, and you doubt he’s looking for conversation.

One foot off the steps and you already feel like you’re committing some sort of heinous crime. Either that or about to be sentenced for one, you can’t be sure. Maybe you shouldn’t have come. Tugging your suitcase from the side of the bus, your expression sours when someone nears you to offer their assistance.

“I’ve got it, thanks.” Your tone is short, and in your peripheral the figure recoils.

“O-oh, sorry-”

Your mind races. Oh no. Nope. Not here, not now. Had he been on the bus the whole time?

“Rufioh?”

You try to school your expression into something more surprised and less panicked, your tone less hostile, but judging by his expression... Well, no. He looks just as panicked as you feel. Not particularly hurt, though? Not even out of the station and you’ve already messed up. Was he going to tell the others? The silence stretches, and as you decide to fill it, he finally speaks.

“Kankri.”

Rufioh has a duffel of his own, but no suitcase in sight. He was always a good kid - probably left things home with his parents. The release of pressure on the brakes breaks you from your thoughts, and you reach out to pull Rufioh back with you. He startles, and you pull back like you’ve been burned.

“I shouldn’t have presumed-” You mentally kick yourself the moment your mouth opens, but the beginning of an audible text wall seems to be all that’s needed to get Rufioh out of his stupor.

“Dude, it’s fine! I mean, Kankri. _Dude._ Sorry.”

You’re missing something, you think, when Rufioh looks at you like a ticking time bomb.

“Home for the summer?”

“I- Yeah?”

Hoping to avoid any awkwardness by changing the subject, you seem to have made things worse. You extend the handle on your suitcase, and adjust your duffel. This was going to be a long walk, assuming Rufioh didn’t have a ride waiting for him.

“Me too.”

Rufioh still looks stumped, so you opt for starting to walk. People usually move with you if you do that, so with any luck, your childhood friend will be no different. If you were going to get home before word of your arrival could spread, you were going to have to walk _fast_. Thankfully, Rufioh takes the hint. You walk immediately for the exit, and he uses his (marginally) longer legs to overcome your pace and stop you.

“Who’s picking you up?” Rufioh asks, and the brotherly tone nearly throws _you_ for a loop.

“No one?”

Why would anyone be picking you up? It’s been two years, they’ve probably wiped their hands of you. This is the wrong answer, though, because Rufioh looks horrified. There you go again.

“Dude, come on. Horuss brought his truck, the cab is massive - you can have shotgun? I mean, passenger? The front seat.”

There’s something about Rufioh that just isn’t right, and you can’t quite put your finger on it. Oddly considerate, maybe? No, Rufioh had always been kind. Too kind, you think, thoughts of Damara’s heartbreak making your own heart clench. It must just be the way he’s looking at you, you reason. After all, two years is a long time, and you hadn’t kept contact with anyone.

So, in short, it was on you.

Your silence lasts too long, because Rufioh is ready to over explain again. It was strange to be on the receiving end of your own nervous habit. Probably because he spoke so unsure of himself, so unlike the confidence you remember in his kindness.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to, just an offer,” Rufioh begins.

“A ride would be... nice.” You swallow the word ‘pleasant’, not wanting to sound rude.

Rufioh thankfully doesn’t look offended by your hesitation, and ushers you back towards what you presume is intended to be a waiting area. A measly collection of benches - some old, one new - that really marks your hometown for what it is. You vaguely note a wave of nostalgia threatening to break over you, but it feels distant. Rather than dwell, you sit in silence with Rufioh and stare at the pavement under your feet. He doesn’t push a conversation, and for that, you’re beyond grateful. You weren’t even prepared for your family’s questions, much less those of your childhood friends.

The pair of you are rescued from the thickening silence by the roar of a truck engine approaching, different from the rumbling cars that had already passed down the road. Rufioh perks up almost immediately, slinging his bag over his shoulder in the same smooth motion that has him standing. You feel how clunky your similar motions are beside him, hands shaking as you pick up your suitcase. You’d have to find somewhere to be alone later, now that you had accepted a ride from Horuss.

Anxiety flurries in your chest, and you cage it tightly. Not here, not now. The truck pulls up - bright blue, almost electric - and Rufioh doesn’t hesitate to toss his duffle in its bed. He runs to the driver’s side, and for a moment, he’s out of sight.

Your fingers twitch.

Rufioh returns in a heartbeat, pulling his shorter boyfriend along with a toothy grin. When Rufioh looks to you, he misses the way that Horuss’s own grin falters at the sight of you. You keep your shoulders straight, refusing to give in to the urge to curl them in, and offer a small smile. This is enough for Rufioh to wave you over, turning back to his boyfriend to tell him something you can’t hear. You purse your lips briefly, and school your features back before you approach.

“Horuss,” you say in what you hope is a lighter tone than you hear, “thank you for the ride.”

“Of course.” His response is immediate, and stiff. “Rue doesn’t always find... company on the bus.”

“Horuss.”

Both you and Horuss look at Rufioh, although you seem to be the only one surprised by the warning in his voice. Horuss, on the other hand, looks like a scolded dog. You swallow a laugh at the thought.

“Sorry, Kankri.”

“No offense taken.”

Neither of them seem to believe you, and you’re grateful when, yet again, Rufioh doesn’t push. He could’ve asked why you didn’t have a ride, why you hadn’t been seen in two years. Where you had been, why you hadn’t written anyone back, or even dropped someone a line. Instead, he gives you your distance, and you make a note to get him something nice as thanks.

Rather than take the offered front seat, you haul yourself into the back of the cab, luggage with you. Horuss is already back in the driver’s seat, and you don’t want to bother him or Rufioh with helping you set anything in the truck bed. Skrillex plays from the speakers as soon as the engine starts back up, and you try to hide a smile in your sweater at the delight in Rufioh’s voice at the music choice. _Bangarang_ , of course.

Maybe, you think, this summer won’t be too bad.


	2. don't wanna be a burden

Horuss wastes no time in asking how Rufioh’s trip was, and for the moment, you’re forgotten in the backseat. You watch your hometown pass by through the window, making note of what’s changed since you were here last. The town is just a little bigger than before with its streets repaved and sidewalks cleaned up. Family businesses stand proud among the few larger corporations, the latter responsible for pushing the boundary line that separates the town from the surrounding cities. One looks like it’s already been taken over by the town, architecture screaming anything other than arcade center, but sign designating it as much. You feel pride swell in your chest at the continuing obstinacy your town is known for.

“You look happy.”

You startle in your seat from the change in volume. Horuss is looking at you, and whatever smile snuck onto your face falls off. Rufioh looks concerned again, and you exhale through your nose with more force than necessary.

“I do that sometimes,” you retort.

“And there’s nothing wrong with that!”

Rufioh cuts in quickly, not giving you and Horuss a chance to argue. You know he’s only giving you a ride because his boyfriend had asked, but he didn’t have to go out of his way to be such a dick about it. He could have just kept talking to Rufioh and ignored you until he had reached your family’s house.

“Of course,” Horuss agrees when you stay silent. “Just an observation.”

He turns down what used to be a sidestreet, now wider to allow more mobility for turning traffic. Anxiety claws at the tight cage in your chest with a vengeance. Groundcover lawns bloom on either side of the street here, and you absently note that people still match their groundcover to their houses and gardens. Your fingers twitch and curl in your lap at the sight. You turn your hands into fists with a determined inhale. As though sensing your growing discomfort, Rufioh turns back in his seat to speak to you.

“You can crash at my dad’s place. He always keeps my room ready.”

Despite the sincerity in the offer, he sounds anything other than confident. You manage a smile for him. You weren’t sure that staying with one of your dad’s best friends would be much better than staying with your own immediate family.

“I’ll text you if I need a place to stay.”

Your promise comes out steady, and you mentally pat yourself on the back. Rufioh beams at you in response. He turns back briefly in his seat, wiggling around. His cellphone is in your hands seconds later.

“I know you changed your number, so uh, none of us have it anymore.”

“I’ll tell you what happened later.”

Both him and Horuss perk up at that, curiosity clear. You’re going to need more time to talk about that incident, since it would inevitably snowball into talking about the whole day. (You had dubbed the entire day “The Incident™” early on.) You plug your new number into Rufioh’s contact list, and pass the phone back to him. As long as no one looked too deeply into the area code, you’d be fine.

It was fine.

What _wasn’t_ fine was that Horuss had already reached your family’s home. The sprawling one-story house looked twice as big and intimidating from the street than it ever had. You had a better idea now of how Dave must have felt the first time Karkat brought him over after school. You repress that memory and grab your bags, surprise jolting you when the truck door opens. Rufioh doesn’t ask before grabbing your suitcase from you, and you’re too anxious to tell him not to do that without permission. You take solace in Horuss remaining in the driver’s seat, and follow Rufioh towards the front door.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

Rufioh trips on the edge of the sidewalk, and you grab the back of his pants and pull him back.

“Wh-” He looks at you in surprise. “Thanks!”

You offer an uncharacteristic half-shrug, dismissing his thanks as automatic. Anyone else would have done the same. You don’t just watch someone fall flat on their face, after all. Rufioh must take your silence for nervousness, however, because he makes a point of walking ahead of you like some kind of human shield. You almost smile at the thought, only for the air in your lungs to vanish when movement catches your peripheral. Someone had been in the window, and they’d seen you.

Your fingers are curling into your palms again.

The air is too heavy, and the noise from the street sounds distant. Vaguely, you note that Rufioh has stopped moving, as have you. The front door is mere steps away, where the turning of locks is louder than even the pounding of your heart. You catch the rustling of blinds again, and you force your hands to relax. The movement leaves your shoulders stiff, and the uphill battle leaves you struggling to breathe.

Rufioh stands resolutely between you and the front door, which opens to a swirl of violet skirts. Your cousin’s voice is too familiar not to recognize, even if you can’t understand what she’s saying. You notice that Rufioh has shuffled to block her from you, and you’re not sure if you thank him out loud or not. There’s still not enough air; you probably only managed a wheeze.

Unaware of your inner turmoil, the only thing that brings you back to the present is the closing of the front door. Your lungs remember their purpose with a vengeance that feels vaguely like your first time surfacing in the pool. Your chest burns, and your head is too light.

“Kankri?”

You feel your heart jump into your throat with excessive force when you hear your name. Oh _shit_. Twisting your hands into your sweater, you turn towards the sound. Your little brother is standing there with his mouth agape, and well, he’s not as little as you remember. How long has it been? Only two years, right? That’s what the calendar had said. At the very least, he looks angry with you - that hasn’t changed.

You probably should have called before coming home.

“Karkat.”

Rufioh isn’t quick enough to intercept this time, so it’s good you’ve found your voice again. So long as he has your - quite literal - back, you can make it through this confrontation. You expect yelling from Karkat, his rough manner of speaking escalating until he’s shouting to try and sort out his feelings, but you don’t expect the silence. His brows are furrowed, and his frown sets too easily into his face. He’s looking at you like you’re everything and nothing at once. You hate it.

“Apologies if we’re blocking your way.” You say at last, seeing Dave standing just a couple of feet behind him.

“You- You’re-”

“Been awhile, dude.”

For as close as Karkat comes to beginning his tirade, Dave’s smooth greeting is all it takes to quiet him again. You’re not sure you’d call that a greeting, though. It sounds more accusatory than anything else.

“It has,” you agree, “unfortunately.”

“I can stay,” Dave says, but this time it’s not directed at you.

Karkat doesn’t even hesitate.

“You should go.”

There’s an edge to his voice that sounds like a warning, and you find yourself stepping back towards Rufioh the slightest bit. Dave must hear it, too, because he hesitates to leave. You’re grateful when he finally nods and walks back to his car. You file that fact away for later, that Dave drove your brother home from somewhere.

“You too.”

For a moment, you think Karkat is addressing you. You snap back to him and open your mouth to ask “why”, but it’s not you he’s looking at. Rufioh has been a steady, supportive presence at your back, and now Karkat is asking your one safety net to leave. You hear your inhale rather than feel it, and Karkat looks ready to snark at you for it.

“Karkat,” Rufioh sighs, “he just got home.”

“This isn’t-”

Whatever Karkat is about to say gets cut off by the front door opening again. You’re swept into slender arms and gardenia perfume, and it’s the familiarity and comfort of your aunt that breaks you down at last. Your breath hitches into a sob, and you feel like you’re ten years old again in her arms. She’s not yelling, and she’s not pushing you away. You’d expected more anger like Karkat’s, justifiable in your distance and silence.

Instead, you feel _missed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [strums guitar] _anxietyyy_


	3. lead is terrible in flavor

Your aunt moves you into the house - you think she may have actually picked you up, rather than guide your steps inside - and you’re passed from her embrace to your father’s. This only brings a fresh wave of tears from you. He sounds despondent, though the tone is all you can make out, and your aunt’s hand comes to rest on your back. She draws soothing circles, and you think she may be trying to calm the both of you at once. Eventually, your lungs win over your emotional floodgates, and you quiet as you try to catch your breath.

“Kankri,” you hear her say, “do you want to sit down?”

You shake your head negative, pressing your face into your father’s shoulder. When did he get so short? Your aunt huffs out something like a laugh, and runs her fingers through your hair. You feel like you’re eleven again, back from your first miserable day of middle school. The memory shakes you, and you release your grip on your father and step back without a word.

“Sorry.”

It’s a rough whisper, and you’re looking at the ground. You curl your fingers around the edges of your sweater. Could you be any ruder? With a sniffle, you give yourself a mental shake. You’re twenty years old. You can do better than this. In front of you, you can see your father rocking on his feet, like he wants to step forward. When your aunt returns her hand to your back, you flinch.

“Kankri, what ha-”

Oh no.

“It doesn’t matter, Roland. He’s home now.”

Your aunt is your saving grace now, and the breath you didn’t know you were holding leaves your lungs in a harsh rush. The foyer falls silent with her words. Kayley must have run interference with your cousin, and Karkat, and _oh_ , Nepeta. Your mind picks up speed again, and you release one hand to wipe the tears from under your eyes with your sleeve. Despite the distinct feeling that you’re in an elevator that’s stopping on every floor, you remain standing. You suppose you should take your aunt’s offer and sit down. She’s arguing quietly with your father now, though, and you turn towards the door to see your bags sitting inside. Rufioh is nowhere to be found, however. Your chest clenches, and you force another breath out. He has your number now.

It’s fine. Everything is fine.

“Isobel.”

Your father hisses out your aunt’s name, and you turn back to the pair. They’re too close to not be about to fight, and you steel yourself to intervene. It’s about you, after all.

“Roland, _let it go_.” Her tone is final, and she steps back with her head held high.

He glances at you, only to see that you’re watching them. Your hands twitch. If you could just get away for a moment, you think, you could catch your breath properly. The hand you keep wiping your face with curls tighter into its sleeve.

“Kankri,” your father tries again, “what did your brother say?”

You glance at your aunt for help, but she looks just as curious as your father. With a steadying breath, you straighten your shoulders. He hadn’t really said anything.

“Nothing. He was just...” You hesitate, hoping the right word will come out. “Blustering.”

They both relax, and your father even looks a little amused.

“The usual, then.” He says this as though you were never gone.

“The usual.” You agree, grateful for the bit of normalcy.

Silence falls in the foyer again. You’re not sure what to say to them. Sorry I vanished for two years? Sorry I didn’t call first? Sorry for coming back? Sorry I ruined your shirts? The options spin through your mind, nauseating you with each pass. Isobel was like a second mother to you, and, well, your father was your _father_. Each start to an apology feels like lead in your mouth. You could read an entire dictionary and not find the words to say, you think.

“Kankitty!”

You’ve never been so grateful to hear Nepeta’s voice.

“Nepeta!” You yell back with as much enthusiasm as you can muster before she knocks the wind out of your lungs.

You’ve got an armful of teenager, and a heart full of love. Kayley isn’t far behind, reaching out to grab Nepeta, but you shift your grip and step back a little. You’d never drop your little sister. She buries her face in your neck - not unlike how you were with your father mere minutes ago - and wraps her legs around your waist.

“Nepeta Leijon-Vantas, you _know_ better! Get off of Kankri this instant!” Kayley scolds, hands shaking. She looks at you, offering a wan smile. “Kankri dear, so glad to see you home!”

Nepeta presses herself closer to you, and you pat her back when you realize this hug is going to last a while. Despite the clear stress of the other adults in the room, you know you owe Nepeta this much. Maybe you would sit down after all.

You’re not sure why they’re so upset about her actions, however.

“It’s fine, mom,” you reassure her, “I’ll just sit down.”

You ignore the looks of shock and the distinct feeling that you’re forgetting something. Instead, you focus on shuffling around the bench by the front door and into the living room. Once you near the couch, you throw yourself onto it dramatically, earning a squeal from Nepeta. You think you might have heard someone gasp your name, but Nepeta is much louder and directly in your ear. In a flash, your aunt is by your side, forehead creased with concern.

“Kankri,” she pushes, “are you sure you’re-”

“She’s not that heavy,” you sigh.

You poke her side, right under her ribs, when she makes a face at you for implying that she may even be remotely heavy. Nepeta, like Meulin, was petite. She was wiry, however, likely by fault of your shared father. Your aunt doesn’t seem to believe you, but you prop yourself up on the couch and hold Nepeta.

If she starts crying, you pretend not to notice. Fifteen year olds don’t cry like babies, you think. That had been her saying before you’d left for college, except it had been thirteen year olds then. Teenagers, Nepeta had insisted, were fierce warriors. And warriors don’t cry like babies.

Behind your aunt stands your parents, and behind them stands Karkat. Kanaya is whispering something in his ear beside him. It looks like her words are meant to be soothing, even though Karkat still looks ready to yell at you until his voice gets hoarse. He’s silent, at least, which is more than you can ask for. Karkat stomps over to sit across from you, legs crossed and jaw tight. A coffee table separates the two of you, and you can’t help but think that he chose that position strategically. Karkat, like Nepeta, always held some fantasy of being a warrior.

The rest of your family follows suit shortly, Kanaya sitting beside Karkat on the floor. Your aunt sits in her chair, and your father sits in the recliner beside her. Kayley sits on the couch beside you and Nepeta. Cautiously, she reaches out to scratch Nepeta’s back lightly. There’s unspoken questions in their eyes, and you silently thank whatever power is looking out for you that Porrim isn’t present. Enough of your family is here to make this difficult enough as it is.

Still, some of them look at you with a concern you can’t quite place.


	4. the same book, but the wrong page

“So what’s the story?” Karkat asks.

His tone is accusatory, and his words are meant to cut through you. You wonder if he might be hurt from your absence, but the two of you had never been very close. As far as siblings went, you’d always been his least favorite. He was probably angry on behalf of the family.

“Which one?” You ask, holding Nepeta a little tighter to anchor yourself.

“Which one?”

Karkat’s pitch escalates with his volume, and Kanaya shows no hesitation when she puts her hand over his mouth. When he jerks back to avoid being silenced, she places her other hand on the back of his head. You nearly smile, thinking of how she had likely learned that from Porrim, just as Porrim had learned it from their mother. Vantas men were “wordy”, as your aunt called it.

“It’s been two years, Kankri,” Kayley prods. “We... You never called.”

There’s an unspoken sentence in there that you hear loud and clear. You had considered the possibility, of course, that they would have come to that conclusion in your absence. A part of you had even hoped they would. (You felt awful for even thinking it still.) Seeing the grief on your parents’ faces reinforces that they had likely been very near to giving up on your return. Your gut twists, and the tightness in your chest returns with a vengeance.

“A lot has happened,” you manage to say softly. “Just. A lot.”

You don’t look at anyone when you speak, focusing your eyes on the prayer book your aunt proudly displays between two white candles. Just out of reach of little hands, by the time any of you were tall enough to reach it, you knew better than to grab something so precious to her. It grounds you along with your hold on Nepeta. The silence stretches and you’re positive no one knows what to say. What was there to say? You didn’t even know where to start yourself.

“I’d rather not talk about the past two years. I’ll be going back in the fall, and I have a new phone to keep in touch with. Assuming all goes well, I’ll be able to come home over winter holidays as well.”

The words rush out once you start to speak. You still haven’t taken the risk of looking at anyone, choosing instead to monitor them in your peripherals. Kayley is just out of your line of sight. Your father is practically doubled over where he sits. Kanaya seems to have removed her hands from Karkat’s head, and his head is bowed. Isobel has her hands folded in her lap, and she’s looking directly at you. You’ve probably asked too much of them to forget the last two years.

They’ll kick you out any minute now.

“So you’re just going to leave again?” Karkat’s voice is rough, but quiet.

“He’ll come back,” Kayley adds.

You stay silent, and reluctantly pull your eyes away from Isobel’s prayer book to track the conversation.

“We’re supposed to pretend this never happened! Mom-”

“That’s not what your brother is asking of us, Karkat.” Your father sounds tired, and guilt strikes you again.

“Yes it is, dad. Did you even listen to him?”

“Don’t speak to your parents in that tone, Karkat. We all missed Kankri.”

“Missed- _Missed_ Kankri? Why did he even bother to come back?”

Although he’s looking at your aunt when he speaks, you know that the words are directed at you. You stiffen at the attack. Nepeta, who had been still in your lap, leaps to her feet with a hiss.

“Karkat,” she begins, and you realize that she must be truly angry to use his actual name, “what if mew had disappurred? Should we just purrtend for a moment?”

Nepeta’s arms are crossed, and despite her falling back into her arsenal of cat puns, there’s something about her stance that you find inherently intimidating. You could always expect to be intimidated by Meulin, sure. But Nepeta? She had really grown in the past two years.

You had missed a lot, it seems.

“Nepeta, no one is disappearing.”

Kayley’s disapproving tone only causes Nepeta to shift her stance a bit. She doesn’t back down, however, and continues to stare down Karkat. Your parents sigh.

“Kids, to your rooms.” Your father says. “Now.”

His tone leaves no room for argument, and Kanaya looks miffed that she’s being punished with her cousins. One look from her mother straightens her expression, and she leaves the room with Karkat. Nepeta stays, and you speak up before she can get herself into more trouble.

“If you get your latest works together, we can go over them later.”

Your olive branch works.

Nepeta perks up immediately, and practically runs down the hall to her room. You hear Karkat let out a shout, and finally allow yourself a smile. He must have been waiting for her in the hall. She was smaller than him now, but you would still put money on her ability to trample him at that speed.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Kayley pulls your focus back to the matter at hand, though you’re not sure what it is.

“I don’t want them to worry unnecessarily. College shouldn’t be a frightening matter, it’s a normal part of life and receiving a higher education is a necessary-”

“Nepeta hit you pretty hard, Kankri.”

Your unsteady train of thought is brought to a screeching halt by your aunt’s patient interruption. Sure, Nepeta was older now, but she wasn’t much larger than she used to be. Then again, muscle weighs quite a bit, and she was always the athletic sort. You hadn’t had any problems carrying her, though.

So, what were you missing?

“She’s... stronger than she used to be,” you venture carefully.

“Just let me take a look.”

Not careful enough it seems. Kayley’s sigh is punctuated by her already reaching for the bottom of your sweater, lifting it while you try not to squirm uncomfortably. You place a hand on her wrist, stopping her from viewing past your waistband. She looks like she wants to fight you, and while you feel loved just from her concern, you have your limits.

“She didn’t hurt me.” You insist firmly. “I promise.”

No one in the room looks like you’ve convinced them that you’re uninjured. Was there something you had forgotten about Nepeta? She and Karkat had always played rough while you and Meulin kept to your books. Still, you had no recollection of her ever hurting you, or anyone else, unintentionally. Your head spins with the potential that you’ve forgotten something important. Everyone else knew, and you were in the dark. You grip the bottom of your sweater a little too tightly when you pull it back down. Terra cotta washes out near white on your knuckles, so you remind yourself to breathe when Kayley’s olive hand covers yours.

“Kankri, as long as you’re sure, we’ll take your word for it.”

When your shoulders fall, you realize they must have been tense throughout the whole interaction. You turn the hand that Kayley is holding over to grip hers. She’s worrying about you, and you don’t know why. That doesn’t make her your mother any less. If anything, it just reminds you that she is. Maybe you’ll remember while you’re here why you parents are so worried, or you’ll slip up and they’ll have to tell you. You almost snort at the thought. This was feeling more like some undercover attempt at getting to know your own family than a visit to your hometown. When you saw Meulin, she was going to go nuts over the material. You could hear her plotting out her next book already.

Something told you that she would make the Rufioh-based character your love interest again.

You let your parents gather their thoughts, taking the opportunity to gather your own while you could. From the sound of it, your old room was likely left untouched. You had your own space to sleep in. Anything that Tyrone did for Rufioh, your father had always done for you. It was tempting to take Rufioh up on his offer to stay with Tyrone and Sylvia. Tavros would much rather spend his time with Rufioh, though, you were sure. You wouldn’t impose on the Nitrams.

After dark, you would have to take a walk to get some air. There was no point in walking while it was still light out. Everyone could see you too clearly, and the sweater you’d worn as a peace offering would stand out too much. You could change after dinner, and finally catch your breath. Even now, you caught yourself chewing on your lips as a redirection from fidgeting your fingers. This summer would be an exercise in control, if nothing else. You would have to come up with a regular reason to walk every night, with multiple routes so no one would find you predictable.

“Kankri, did you hear me?”

Isobel’s voice cuts through your calculations, a mix of concern and amusement in her tone. You look up at her, hand still holding Kayley’s. She’s worried again, and you have the decency to apologize for being so unaware of those around you.

“I’m sorry, I was deep in thought. I didn’t hear you, Aunt Isobel.”

“I asked what you wanted for dinner tonight, dear.”

You’re struck with the feeling of being on an elevator that’s stopped again, your entire body jolting. It must be in your head, because no one is looking at you like you’ve moved. You scold yourself silently for giving in to the distracting sensation.

“I don’t have a preference.” You answer honestly, and she’s clearly unhappy with your answer. “Everything you make is delicious.”

No one can argue that, you think. You’re not hungry in the slightest. The elevator stops aren’t helping your potential appetite, and you resolve to ground yourself again. You logically knew what they were a sign of, but you didn’t have time to humor the feeling. There were more important matters at hand. When your aunt preens at your praise, you relax a little.

You were going to have to tread carefully from here on out.


	5. the sleeves of your sweater

You intend to meet Nepeta in her room, parents left to speak in hushed tones about your return. Kayley hadn’t wanted to let go of your hand at first. You had given your father and aunt a pleading look in hopes that they’d understand you needed to hold true to your promise to Nepeta. Whether they had picked up on that or simply recognized your plea, your father coaxed your mother to release her grip on your hand. You made sure to flex your fingers inside the sleeve of your sweater so as not to worry her.

“Nepeta?”

She’s not in her room, and you wonder if she’s already forgotten your suggestion.

“Purresent!”

The call comes from behind you, where Nepeta comes flying out of Karkat’s room. Behind her, Karkat glares at you and Kanaya mouths an apology. You grin at Nepeta, and do your best to nod to Kanaya in acknowledgement. Karkat - for whatever reason his anger stemmed from - would likely never forgive you. That didn’t mean that you couldn’t make peace with the rest of your family, however. Nepeta’s hand latches around your wrist, and you’re tugged into the room right before the door slams shut behind you.

“I have so many new charts!” Nepeta chirps excitedly, notebooks flying from her shelves. “You wouldn’t believe where things are now!”

“Not without your charts,” you appease, noting that she hasn’t released your wrist.

“Of course not, silly!”

Nepeta pulls you to the floor, plush rug just barely cushioning your fall onto the faux hardwood. It’s only now that she releases you, though as she flips open her notebooks, she continues to glance up at you. It’s almost like she expects you to disappear if she doesn’t have a way to reassure herself that you’re there in her room. Guilt blooms anew in your chest, and you vow silently to make this up to her. She was your baby sister, and she shouldn’t have to worry that you’re going to vanish at the drop of a hat.

“So are we going chronologically, or by importance?” You ask patiently.

“Chronologically! After all, mew won’t understand these new developments without knowing where they started!”

Her excitement is borderline contagious, and while you’ve never been a fan of her and Meulin shipping real people, this is something that makes her happy. Nepeta is enthusiastic and conscientious when it comes to her ships, just like the woman she learned to make the charts from. As uncomfortable as it made you, you could swallow your own discomfort for the duration of your visit. After all, this was about Nepeta, not you. She came first today.

It took only a few well-placed words for Nepeta to pull you through two years’ worth of shipping, including the intricacies of relationships that had developed or fallen apart in that time. As expected, she kept most of her shipping to her own age group. You noted that Karkat and Dave were one of her OTPs, and made sure to congratulate her on that ship becoming canon.

The smile that threatened to split her face was worth risking you butchering the fan language her and Meulin were so fond of.

By the time Kanaya was at the door announcing dinner, you had retained only a small portion of what Nepeta had shown you. Anything that directly affected your siblings or your cousins was immediately memorized. Everything else, well, that was someone else’s business. You could always ask her about it later for another lesson on her social group. You helped her to put away her notebooks, even purposefully moving to put some in the wrong spot if only to tease her. While the others all looked at you like you had drastically changed, Nepeta was seemingly unbothered by your behavior. It was reassuring that at least one person in your family wasn’t treating you like a sudden stranger.

Brisket took the center of the dinner table when the two of you took your seats, Nepeta insistently seating herself beside you. You smile indulgently and ruffle her hair like Meulin had done so many times before, your reward a high-pitched complaint and attempt to reach the top of your head to return the favor. As expected, Nepeta is caught red handed, and your scrunch your nose up when you smile this time. In retaliation, she sticks her tongue out at you the moment Kayley looks away to help Isobel bring dishes to the table.

You really, truly had missed this more than you’d known.

Once everyone is seated, dinner is taken in near silence. You haven’t had your aunt’s cooking in two years, and you give silent thanks with each dish you eat. Although you don’t have much of an appetite, you make sure to have a little of everything she’s made. Unable to sit through silence, Nepeta begins to regal the family with the tale of your time with her going over her charts. Karkat glares at you across the table, and you make a point of keeping your eyes on Nepeta when they’re not on your plate. After dinner, Kanaya leads the family in prayer, and you stand to help with the dishes.

“Oh, Kankri, you don’t have to do that!”

“I want to, Aunt Isobel,” you insist while the children - teenagers, you correct yourself - move quickly to fight over the bathrooms.

“That’s very kind of you, Kankri.” Your father praises you with a sad smile.

You wish he wouldn’t look at you like that.

“There’s not nearly enough to help with on campus, and it’s the least I can do. I know I’m here for the summer, but I’ve already spent most of my time with Nepeta.”

It’s meant to be a joke, but you don’t miss the look that your parents exchange.

“Is Porrim not home?” You ask, hoping to deflect the attention from yourself.

“Tomorrow,” your aunt answers. “Kanaya and I will be picking her up from the airport.”

You nod, as though that doesn’t raise more questions for you. Was she still in school? Working? Both? You bite your proverbial tongue to avoid voicing the thoughts in your head.

“One of her coworkers needed a few days off, so she offered to stay a little longer.”

Working at least, then. You nod again as you place leftovers in tupperware. With the leftovers in the fridge, you roll up your sleeves to help with the dishes themselves. You pretend not to notice your aunt’s critical eye on your exposed forearms, and as she already has her gloves on, you move to place the washed dishes into the open dishwasher. The practice had never made much sense to you, but who were you to question it? Everyone did this.

“Aunt Isobel,” you begin hesitantly as you load the dishwasher, “is it still safe to walk at night?”

She fumbles the platter in her hand. You wait. After it’s been set in its place, she starts on the next dish before speaking.

“Of course. Why?”

Though her question is innocent enough, you pick up the tone underneath the word.

“I’ve become accustomed to walking the campus at night. It helps me meditate before bed.”

The lie slides off of your tongue easily, like iced tea from a pitcher. You pray that she won’t see though you. If she does, she doesn’t say so.

“Be sure to leave your number on the fridge, Kankri.” Isobel warns, though she intones it like a suggestion.

You feel a tension you weren’t aware of bleed out of you, though this time it wasn’t displayed in your shoulders. You agree easily, and pass the rest of the time discussing your classes and credits. The fresh air and solitude your walk will bring you is like a beacon in a storm. So long as you keep playing your cards right, you’ll be outside in no time. You roll your lips between your teeth at the thought. You just need to change into something more comfortable before you go.

You can practically taste the release it will bring you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're back!! but what is kankri up to? 👀


End file.
